


Call Me Your King

by heelnev



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU where wade never left and nev is still cruiserweight champion, Hate Sex, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Teasing, because you know damn well i can't write a fic with nev without including mustafa in some capacity, otherwise known as my fave AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelnev/pseuds/heelnev
Summary: Neville didn’t call himself the king (or, more specifically, the “King of the Cruiserweights”) just for the hell of it -- he was the king. There wasn’t a single other competitor that was on the same level as him. He was above them in every conceivable way. He had the look, the wrestling ability, and the personality that came along with such a title. He carried himself like a champion regardless of whether or not there was gold around his waist. Unlike most people, he was capable of backing up all of his boasts. He was truly and undeniably the king.The real king. Unlike Wade fucking Barrett.





	Call Me Your King

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been wanting to write another smutty fic for awhile now and decided to write one for this vastly underappreciated ship!!

Make no mistake about it -- there was only  _ one _ king in all of WWE, and that was Neville.

If you asked him, the whole damn company was jam-packed with imposters. People who swore up and down that they were royalty, when in reality the moniker of “king” or “prince” or whatever figure they claimed to be was only that -- a  _ moniker _ . A little name that they gave themselves in hope that it would eventually become reality. Call yourself a king, you’ll eventually become one, right?

No. It took more than a few tweets from fans or winning a silly little tournament to make a king.

Neville didn’t call himself the king (or, more specifically, the “King of the Cruiserweights”) just for the hell of it -- he  _ was _ the king. There wasn’t a single other competitor that was on the same level as him. He was above them in every conceivable way. He had the look, the wrestling ability, and the personality that came along with such a title. He carried himself like a champion regardless of whether or not there was gold around his waist. Unlike most people, he was capable of backing up all of his boasts. He was truly and undeniably the  _ king _ .

The  _ real _ king. Unlike Wade fucking Barrett.

Everywhere Neville went, he was forced to deal with doubters of his reign. They were an unavoidable part of being royalty. There was  _ always _ going to be someone in the locker room that claimed to be better than him, that claimed that they could be the next Cruiserweight champion if given a shot. Their bragging typically went in one of Neville’s ears and right out the other. Why should he give such peasants the time of day? He had more important things to worry about.

Wade Barrett, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. Wade was one of the aforementioned talent who only called himself the king because he’d won a tournament -- the King of the Ring tournament back in  _ 2015 _ . It had been almost three goddamn years since he won that pointless waste of time, and he was still going around insisting that he be referred to as “King Barrett”. If you asked him,  _ he _ was the king of WWE, not Neville.

It was for this reason that Neville absolutely could not fucking stand him.

Most of his doubters tended to back down following an in-ring obliteration by his hands, but Wade was someone who seemed to be incapable of shutting up. No matter how many impressive matches Neville put on, no matter how many times he stunned people into silence with his decrees, no matter how big the word “KING” was written on the screen when he made his entrance, there was nothing convincing Wade that it was the truth. Neville would pass him in the hallway after a match and would feel his stomach turn at the sight of his cocky smirk, the one that he always wore whenever he knew that he was right about something.

Considering how similarly both Neville and Wade went about their business, it seemed as if the two of them should be close friends. Neither of them were easily impressed, and both of them firmly believed that they were the best. Two men who both believed that they were the king would make the perfect tandem -- they would be unstoppable.

They also both had enormous egos, and as such an alliance was impossible. There was no such  _ thing _ as two kings being able to coexist. Between the two of them, only one of them was able to be the true king.

And Neville would stop at nothing until that title was his and his  _ alone _ .

Neville had walked into Raw that week with this particular goal in mind. He hadn’t seen Wade since arriving to the venue, but he knew that wherever he was loitering that evening, he would probably still be watching his match. Judging his every move. Ready to make some sort of smart comment about what  _ he  _ would have done if he’d been in that match -- something that would have made the match more “entertaining” and “bearable”. Just thinking about what he was going to say made Neville’s fists clench.

Oddly enough, however, Neville didn’t run into Wade once he’d returned backstage following the conclusion of his match (in which he’d come out victorious, naturally). He was typically right in the hallway, leaning back against the wall and brimming with overconfidence. The fact that he was not there was eyebrow-raising.

As he was passing by catering, he took a quick look inside, not finding Wade in there either.  _ Where the hell is he? _ Neville knew that he had a match that evening -- it was set to take place in the next hour, actually -- so he had to be backstage somewhere. The fact that he was nowhere to be found was perturbing, though Neville tried not to dwell on it. The less he saw him, the better, right? He put Wade out of his mind and began to head in the direction of the locker room, slinging his Cruiserweight championship over his shoulder. He should be focusing on more important things, like getting out of his damn attire and into something more comfortable.

Rounding the corner, a smirk grew on his face, as he’d just spotted one Mustafa Ali -- or “Prince Ali” as he was referred to sometimes -- standing outside of the room. Yet another one of the many posers that Neville had to deal with on a regular basis, though he’d be damned if he didn’t see him as one of his favorites to screw with.  _ He’s a pretender. A cute one, though. _

As Neville drew closer, however, he noticed that there was something wrong. There was  a look of concern on Mustafa’s face, as if there was something troubling him. He was chewing on his lower lip, staring down towards the floor.  _ A pretty face like that shouldn’t look so upset. _ “Well, what do we have here?” Neville asked, his smirk having grown even wider now that he was directly in front of him. “What’s on your mind, Prince? Hmm? You seem down.”

Mustafa didn’t reply -- hell, he didn’t even look at him. He kept his gaze focused towards the floor as he started to pick at his nails. “Ali,” Neville said, now a little annoyed. “Your King is talking to you. Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m just…” He started, gaze flicking quickly in Neville’s direction before shifting back down towards his nails. “...thinking about something.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t want to hear it, anyway.”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you being so secretive, lad? Go on, tell me.”

Mustafa licked his lips. “I’m thinking about something that Barrett said to me earlier.”

Whatever remained of Neville’s playfulness had dissipated at the mention of his rival. “You were talking to him?” He asked, now wearing a cold expression.

“ _ I _ wasn’t doing any talking. He kept trying to start up a conversation with me, but I just ignored him. He wouldn’t stop, though.”

“And just what exactly was he saying to you?”

“We were both watching your match. All he did was criticize you the whole time.” Mustafa shook his head. “I had to come out here just to get away from him -- he was becoming too much. There’s such a thing as being  _ too _ critical, y’know.” 

“I’m aware…” Neville let out an aggravated sigh.  _ He’s going after Ali now, too? Am I not good enough for him anymore? _

“What’s the issue between you two, anyway? It seems like he really has it out for you.”

“He’s just bitter that he’ll never be as good as I am. His way of dealing with it is talking shit about me behind my back, apparently…” At least Neville had the decency to say negative things directly to Wade’s face. “Is he still in the locker room?” Neville’s thumb pointed in the direction of the door behind him.

“No, he left not too long ago. Said he wanted to go prepare for his match in some place quieter. Didn’t want anybody to bother him, I guess.”

“Well, someone is  _ about _ to go bother him.” Neville attempted to walk away, but he was stopped by Mustafa, who had suddenly grabbed his arm. “What?”

“Please don’t hurt him,” he pleaded.

“And why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to get in trouble.  _ Again _ .”

Neville put his hands on his hips. “The hell do you mean by ‘again’? You trying to suggest something?”

“I  _ mean _ that you’ve tried to beat the shit out of both Gulak and Noam three times in the last  _ week _ . I’m starting to lose track of how many times you’ve been fined.”

Neville started towards him, getting in his face and wagging a finger. “Do  _ not _ try and act like they both didn’t deserve it.”

With that, Neville proceeded to ignore whatever it was that Mustafa said next, and he went in the opposite direction, his head swiveling as he checked every room that he passed in search of Wade. Now wasn’t the time to be receiving a lecture -- now was the time to find that cocky bastard and give him a piece of his mind.

Neville decided to put himself in Wade’s shoes for a moment. If he were a tall and unbearable bastard who needed a secluded place to prepare for a match, where would he go? Catering was clearly out of the question (and Neville had already looked there, anyway), and Mustafa had said he wasn’t in the locker room anymore. He doubted that he was lying and trying to cover for him.  _ He doesn’t have it in him to be dishonest. He’d probably start crying on the spot. _

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Neville finally spotted Wade at the far end of a deserted hallway, far away from where everyone else was. Neville could only just barely make out the hustle and bustle of the backstage area. Why did Wade insist on coming all the way out  _ here _ to prepare? It didn’t even look like he was getting ready for a match -- he was sitting on top of an equipment crate, playing on his phone.

“Barrett!” Neville yelled, voice echoing off the walls as he stormed in his direction. Wade looked up at this, trademark cocky grin appearing right on cue and causing Neville’s skin to crawl.

“Well, look who it is,” he replied, hopping off of the crate and placing his phone down. “Lil’ Nev. What brings you to these parts, kiddo?”

“Don’t call me that. What the hell do you think you’re doing, huh? You can’t be bothered to say your usual brand of bullshit to my face? Tell me why you insisted on going to Ali,” he spat.

“Oh, what, so I have to pick on you to your face all the time? That’s boring. Don’t be mad just because I chose to chat with your little  _ boyfriend _ tonight.”

“He’s not my--” Neville stopped himself, knowing that arguing with him on this point was going to get him nowhere. “Look, if you want to be a king so badly, then you need to  _ act _ like one.”

“I’m aware. I’d like to think I’m acting pretty kingly this evening, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No! You’ve done nothing this evening besides talk shit about me behind my back and run away before you could be confronted. You can’t call yourself a king and then act like a fucking coward.”

“Oh, so I’m a  _ coward _ ?” Wade repeated with a scoff, taking a few steps closer to Neville. “Are you really the type of person to be calling  _ anyone _ a coward?”

Neville stood his ground, crossing his arms and glaring up at him unflinchingly. “When have I ever acted cowardly?”

“You’re always accepting regular, one-on-one challenges from other cruiserweights, but it’s like you’re afraid to actually put your title on the line against one of them. When was the last time you actually defended, anyway?”

His grip on his title tightened. “I defended at the last pay-per-view. Weren’t you paying attention? You seem to pay attention to everything else I do.”

“I remember that. I also remember you rejecting challenges from the likes of Cedric. And Gran Metalik. And  _ Mustafa _ .” He emphasized Mustafa’s name, as if that was somehow going to make Neville feel bad. “But  _ you’re  _ not a coward.  _ I _ am. Okay, sure.”

“You’re right. You are.” Neville remained unperturbed by his taunts. In fact, it was now his turn to do the smirking. “One thing that you are  _ not _ , though, is a king.”

Wade cackled at that, though his amusement quickly vanished as he shoved Neville back against the wall, causing the title to drop down to the floor. Neville let out a small grunt upon impact, scowling when he realized that Wade had placed his hands on the wall on either side of his head, effectively trapping him.

“You wanna try saying that again,  _ kiddo _ ?” Wade asked, warm breath hitting Neville’s face as he spoke. “I didn’t catch it the first time.”

“You heard me just fine. You. Are not. A king.”

“You’re pretty ballsy, y’know that? Saying that kinda thing outright.”

“It’s part of being a king. If you have a problem with someone, you tell them to their face. You clearly have a lot to learn.” Neville swallowed, trying to look as confident as he possibly could on the outside. On the inside, there was a part of him that felt like this whole situation was off. Wade was directly in his face, practically pressing his forehead up against his. Neville could feel his heart start to pound in his chest over the closeness.

This wasn’t even the first time that the two of them have been this close to each other -- he and Wade had had plenty matches in the past. Before the Cruiserweight division made a comeback and was in desperate need of a royal leader, Neville spent his days in WWE trying to avoid whatever dastardly trick Wade had up his sleeve (or perhaps his elbowpad) during their confrontations. He remembered that they spent quite a bit of time pressed up against each other, so this feeling certainly wasn’t unfamiliar.

The problem laid elsewhere. What was happening now was entirely different. They weren’t doing this for a paycheck or to get any pats on the back from higher ups for their performances. There weren’t any fans around watching them -- hell, there wasn’t  _ anybody _ around. They were completely alone.

They had no reason to be doing this.

And yet, they were.

Neville knew that there was something wrong with how much this excited him.

He watched as Wade chewed on his lower lip, as if he were contemplating what he was going to do with him. He leaned in, and Neville half-expected to be smacked in the face (Lord knows that he would do the same if someone else had said something like that to him), but to his surprise Wade didn’t do that. What Wade  _ did _ do, however, was look down for a moment, as something else had clearly caught his attention.

“What?” Neville asked, an eyebrow raising as he saw Wade’s eyes widen ever so slightly at whatever it was he was looking at. Curiously, Neville followed his gaze, only for his own eyes to grow wide at the sight of the noticeable bulge protruding from the front of his trunks. “Oh, Christ…”

“What’s this supposed to be, huh?” Wade asked, looking oddly proud of himself -- as if he enjoyed the fact that he was (albeit unintentionally) turning Neville into a flustered mess.

“Shut the fuck up.” Neville’s hands balled into fists, his face now bright red as he kept his head down. What the fuck was wrong with him?! He had never gotten this way around anyone before, why did… why did this have to happen because of  _ Wade _ ?!

“What’s the matter, Nev?” Wade removed one of his hands from the wall, and he used it to lift Neville’s head up, keeping hold of his chin as he continued to speak. “You seem embarrassed.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up.” He growled through gritted teeth, though that did no good, as Wade only chuckled.

“Ooh, I’m so scared. So scared of the guy who got a fucking boner over me.” Wade moved the hand to rest on Neville’s shoulder. “So, what’s the story here, lad? You into me?”

Neville wanted to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come out. He had hoped it was because he was too angry and full of hatred to speak, but he knew that that wasn’t the reason why.

Neville wasn’t able to deny it because he simply  _ couldn’t _ deny it.

He had been so convinced for so fucking long that these  _ feelings _ that he had for Wade were pure hatred and nothing more. What other explanation could there be? He found everything about him to be repulsive, from his obnoxious face right down to his arrogant personality. No one else seemed to like him, so why the hell should Neville?

But he had to admit that it certainly didn’t seem like he hated him when he practically searched the whole arena for him just so the two of them could talk. When he first came backstage after his match ended, his very first instinct was to look for Wade. Why did he do that? If he hated him as much as he claimed, why did he concern himself so much with where he was?

Not to mention how angry he’d gotten over Wade talking to Mustafa earlier. What was the  _ real _ reason why that upset him so much? Was he annoyed that Wade was talking to someone that he was interested in? Or was it because he was worried that he was about to be  _ replaced _ ? Because he was afraid that Wade found someone else to annoy and wouldn’t have any need for Neville anymore?

Neville wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was in love with Wade or anything.

But he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t  _ curious _ .

“Cat got your tongue, Nevy?” Wade’s voice snapped Neville back into reality. “There’s no need to be shy. You can be honest with me.”

“I’m not telling you shit,” Neville replied. It was then that he realized that Wade’s hand had left his shoulder and was now resting on his hip, and he felt his heart pounding again.

“You know what? You don’t have to say anything at all.” Wade’s hand shifted over and was now resting directly on the front of Neville’s trunks, and he pressed down on it. “ _ This _ is doing all the talking for you.”

Neville stifled the gasp that threatened to escape his lips at Wade’s touch. He couldn’t let Wade know that he was getting to him. “W-What’s this all about, Barrett?” He managed to ask, facade growing thinner and thinner with each stroke of Wade’s hand. “Why are you doing this? You tryin’ to say that  _ you’re  _ into  _ me _ ?”

Wade shrugged, appearing unconcerned with how his actions might appear. “Who said anything about me being into you? I said nothing of the sort.”

“But you’re--”

“Shh.” Wade gave his clothed erection a squeeze, cutting Neville off and causing him to actually gasp this time. “I wasn’t finished talking.”

“N-Neither was I, y’know…”

“I’m not about to stand here and profess my undying love to you or anything, so don’t get your hopes up for that. What I  _ will _ say…” Wade licked his lips. “...is that I’m more than willing to give you a hand with this little problem of yours.”

“Are you…?”

“Mm. It wouldn’t be right to leave you like this. A king always helps his subjects, after all.” He quirked up his eyebrows, his words causing Neville to roll his eyes.

“You’re killing the mood, you know that?” He pointed out. If there was anything that he  _ could _ do at this time without stuttering, it was call Wade out for falsely labeling himself.

“Oh, hush.” Wade’s fingers trailed to Neville’s waistband, the tips slipping inside. “Do you want me to help or not?”

Neville took a moment to mull over his decision, eyes glued to Wade’s hand. On one hand, he knew that he couldn’t be seen walking around the venue with a boner. On the other hand, the man willing to help him out with it was Wade. A pro of this situation was the he would be having an orgasm, which was never a bad thing in his book. A con, however, was that the one offering to give him one was  _ Wade _ . Still, considering that there wasn’t anybody else around backstage that was willing to lend him a hand with this ‘problem’, he knew he couldn’t afford to be picky.

...But still, it was fucking  _ Wade _ .

“Well?” Wade asked. “Kid, if you don’t want me to, then just say so. It’s fine. I’m not gonna make fun of you or anything.”

“For once…”

“You trying to imply that I’m always teasing you?  _ Me _ ? Surely you jest.”

“Shut  _ up _ .” Neville stomped his foot, earning a chuckle in response. After a beat, he finally met Wade’s gaze, finding his resolve.  _ Fuck it _ . “Go ahead.”

“Wait, for real?” Wade replied, looking a little surprised. “I gotta be honest, I was expecting you to tell me to piss off like you usually do.”

“I would, but…”  _ You don’t usually offer to get me off. _

“But?” Wade encouraged him, slowly began to tug Neville’s trunks down as he spoke.

“It’s nothing, forget it.”

“Come on, you can trust me, can’t you?” He batted his eyelashes innocently. “Just finish that sentence.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” Wade took hold of Neville’s length and began to move his hand up and down.

“Is that a challenge?” Neville bit his lip, both at Wade’s touch and the proposition. He’d spent so long contemplating ways to finally make this man shut up, but he’d yet to figure out how to actually do it. Now that he was essentially being told to, his mind was drawing a blank.

...Well, he did have  _ one _ idea. Lord only knows how it’s going to go over, though.

“Feeling shy again?” Wade teased, thumb brushing over the head. “I thought I told you that you could--” He was suddenly cut off by Neville’s lips forcefully pressing up against his, and he froze.

As Neville pulled away, he bit Wade’s lower lip, giving it a little tug. “Who’s the shy one now, Barrett?” Neville asked, breaking the silence.

Wade shook his head, looking almost impressed with Neville’s boldness. “You little bastard…” His expression quickly turned devilish, and he starting to move his hand again, now going a little quicker than before. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Don’t be mad because I got you,” Neville teased as he tried to maintain control over the situation, even goes as far as to pucker his lips at him.

“Oh, you definitely got me alright… I’ll give you that. But you know I’m going to have you get you back.”

“Good luck with that. I’m too good to be caught.”

“But you’re not good enough to reject a handjob at work, though.” Wade leaned down and connected their lips again before he moved and began to nip at Neville’s jaw. “I’ll find some way to get you…”

Neville was about to retort, but he felt as Wade’s hand sped up even further, and he quickly shut his mouth, silencing himself. He knew damn well that no words were going to come out, especially now that Wade had moved down to kiss and suck at his neck -- an area where he was particularly sensitive.

“You’re quieter than I thought you’d be,” Wade said, voice a little muffled. “I wanna hear what I’m doing to you…”

“L-Like hell I’m about to give you the satisfaction…” Neville growled. He couldn’t let Wade know that he’d just discovered one of his weak spots.

“Don’t be like that. No one else is around to hear you, y’know.”

Again, Neville opened his mouth to speak, but then there was a sudden flash of pain as Wade bit down, and before Neville could stop himself he groaned.  _ Nice fucking going, dipshit _ .

“That’s what I like to hear,” Wade said, his facial hair tickling Neville as he spoke. “Let’s hear more of that.”

“S-Shut up…”

“How many times have you told me that in the last few minutes? Is that your new catchphrase?” He bit down again, relishing the sounds that Neville made in response. “Kiss or no kiss, you can only keep me quiet for so long. You, on the other hand, are having a little trouble with keeping your mouth shut, huh?”

This continued for a little while longer, the two of them trading taunts back and forth all while Wade didn’t slow down for a second. Neville wanted so badly to have the last word, but that was becoming more and more difficult by the moment, as he knew that he was going to come soon. “Wade…” He grabbed hold of Wade’s bicep as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge, burying his face in the crook of his neck as his face went hot--

And Wade stopped.

Neville’s eyes went wide as Wade slowly let go of him, and there was that  _ fucking _ cocky smirk. “W-What the fuck? Why did you stop?” Neville whined.

“I was giving it some thought… I’m still a little hurt by you saying that I’m a coward,” Wade replied. “And I was starting to think that maybe you should  _ earn _ it.”

“Earn it?” Neville repeated. “How?”

“I like those lips of yours… You’re a pretty good kisser, you know that?” He ran his thumb along Neville’s lower lip. “I think they should be put to better use, don’t you agree?”

“You-- You  _ bastard _ …” Neville smacked the wall with his fist. He should have known better than to think that Wade would have just let him come so easily. Typical Wade fucking Barrett, being difficult as always.

Still, even though he’d just been complaining about it, Neville shoved Wade back against the opposite wall and began to sink down to his knees. He could see that Wade was already hard -- from what Neville had no idea, though he figured that it was probably because screwing with him was one of his kinks. “Fair warning that I’m not good at this,” he said, looking up at him. “I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“Really? Well, so long as you don’t try to bite my dick off, you’ll be fine.” Wade stroked the top of Neville’s head as if he were a cat, snorting as Neville swatted his hand away a second later.

“You’re giving me ideas, Barrett…”

“Hey, hey, you watch yourself down there.”

Neville pulled down Wade’s trunks, eyeing up his length and swallowing once he realized the size of it. He had been planning on making a joke of some kind about how Wade was smaller than him. This was most definitely  _ not _ the case.

“What’s the problem?” Wade asked. “Are you a little intimidated? Aren’t you supposed to be a king?”

“I’m not  _ intimidated _ , asshole. Just hoping you don’t poke my eye out with that damn thing.” Neville shuddered at the thought of himself getting a black eye and having to come up with an excuse for his sudden, oddly placed injury.

He started by giving the head a small lick, looking back up at Wade to gauge his reaction. Wade gestured with his hand for Neville to continue, and so he did, giving a few more tentative licks. Wade’s hand was back in Neville’s hair, though he didn’t slap it away this time. Instead, he took a deep breath, now taking the tip into his mouth.

“There you go, you’re getting it.” Wade breathed out, giving Neville’s hair a little tug as he took more of him into his mouth. Neville rested his hands on Wade’s thighs, holding them firmly as his tongue swirled around him. “You sure you don’t this often? You seem pretty experienced.”

Neville responded with a little grunt, lightly slapping his thigh. “Or maybe you’re just a slut, who knows,” Wade continued, causing Neville to slap his thigh a little harder this time.

Neville pulled off, glaring up at him. “Don’t make me bite you.”

“Let me have a little fun with this weird-ass situation, would you? I’m getting my dick sucked by a guy who I normally hate. Who also just so happens to be a slut.”

“Shut it.”

“Make m--” Before he could finish, Neville suddenly took as much of him as he could into his mouth, and he could only groan, leaning back against the wall as the warmth of Neville’s mouth overtook him.

_ Yeah, that got him to shut up. _ Neville thought to himself bemusedly as he started to slowly bob his head. It wasn’t the most practical method he’s tried, but at least he knew that it worked.

Neville resumed this pace for a few moments, relishing in the sounds that Wade was making. It was interesting how unconcerned he was with being caught -- Neville was admittedly a little worried that someone could wander into the part of the venue that they were in and stumble across this whole scene, and with Wade being as loud as he was he wouldn’t be shocked if this ended up being the case.

“H-Hey, I’m…” Wade’s grip on Neville’s hair tightened even more, and he gave it another tug as he started to pant.

And then Neville pulled away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Wade asked, running his hands through his own hair in distress.

“Earn it.” Neville chuckled darkly, licking his lips.

“Are you joking?! What do you need me to do?!”

“Hmm…” Neville ran his finger along his shaft as he thought. “Call me your king.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m serious…” Neville pouted cutely, making like he was going to stand up. “Hm, I guess we’re done here, since you don’t seem like you’re gonna do it. You can finish yourself.”

“You mother _ fucker _ …” Wade put his fist in his mouth, biting down on his knuckles “...ng...”

“What was that?” Neville said, lips brushing against the head. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“You’re my fucking king!!” Wade shouted. “There, are you happy?”

Neville couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, the things we do just to have an orgasm. You’re a lot of fun to fuck with, you know that?”

With that, Neville took Wade back into his mouth, continuing what he had been doing earlier and allowing for his cock to hit the back of his throat. It wasn’t long after this that Wade finally came, spilling into Neville’s mouth. He managed to swallow most of it, though he still ended up having to wipe excess cum off of his lips with his thumb.

“...Y’know…” Wade panted as Neville pulled his trunks up for him. “I think you’ve earned yourself more than just a handjob.”

“Oh?” Neville asked as he climbed back to his feet. “Did I manage to impress the so-called ‘king’?”

“You did.” He gave him a pat on the cheek. “And you wanna know what else? You and I can finish up later at the hotel.”

It took Neville a moment to register what he’d just been told. “What, so you’re just gonna leave me here like this?!” Neville gestured to his erection, which had still yet to be taken care of. “I thought you said you weren’t going to!”

“Considering that king bullshit you pulled at the end there, I think you deserve to wait a little longer. Feel free to get yourself off for the time being if you truly want to, though. We still have some time before Raw ends, and I don’t know if you’re the type of guy who wants to walk around backstage with an obvious boner.” He smirked. “Or, maybe you are. You’ve always struck me as being a weirdo.”

Neville sputtered as he watched Wade walk away, and he shut his eyes as he pinched the space between them, propping his free hand on his hip. Just when he thought he’d finally gotten one up on Wade, he finds a way to get him in the end.  _ I sucked that man’s dick only for him to pull  _ **_this_ ** _ bullshit… _

Still, Wade didn’t say that he wasn’t going to do  _ anything _ for him. Just that he had to wait a little longer until they were both back at the hotel -- and the implication that they would be “finishing up” in a hotel room together certainly intrigued him.

“What the fuck did I get myself into with this asshole  _ this time _ ?” Neville grumbled aloud to no one in particular as he fixed his trunks, grabbing his championship from off of the floor and holding it in front of him in hopes that no one would ask what he was hiding behind it.


End file.
